


Offer Me That Deathless Death, Good God Let Me Give You My Life

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Attempted Murder, Back to my old bs, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Halward Pavus' A+ Parenting, Halward is more of an asshole than in canon, M/M, but hes not the biggest asshole in this fic wowza, fuck the questline we do things my way in this household, hi my name is barbaric how does one write, lots of canon divergence, no beta we die like men, that title goes to an OC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 07:19:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18494080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Dorian Pavus and Falar Lavellen have only just went public with their affections, figuring that the settling dust of Corypheus' demise is the perfect time to do so.The Circle had known for a good month or so already, as had a few extra people who were trusted to keep their mouths shut. The only people who this came as a surprise to were the outsiders, the Inquisition soldiers, and Dorian's family.Falar and Dorian were expecting problems from the latter's family. They weren't prepared for an attack closer to home.





	Offer Me That Deathless Death, Good God Let Me Give You My Life

**Author's Note:**

> Who's ready to suffer? 
> 
> For the purposes of this fic, Halward has not attempted to contact Dorian at all until now. 
> 
> And, in case you were wondering? The new threat are some Inquisition soldiers that think Dorian is somehow manipulating/hurting Falar.
> 
> Title is from "Take Me to Church" by Hozier.

The book was incredibly boring. 

 

It was some droning nonsense on the history of Orlais. Just a mess of nothing really happening and fancy names. Dorian sneered at the offending piece of literature. His goblet was already empty again.

 

The wine was so sugary sweet, and it left his head in a fuzzy state. He felt so comfortable... And so tired. What he wouldn't do for one more glass... But... He couldn't let himself have another. He'd promised his  _amatus_ that he'd get better. That he wouldn't drink himself into stupors anymore. 

 

He rolled his head back and placed the book over his face, sighing in annoyance. He didn't even have Falar to complain to about the book's drabness. The Inquisitor was off fighting a band of Rogue Templars. More than a week's trip away from Skyhold. 

 

The thought of the elven mage brought a smile to the man's lips. Falar had set out almost thirteen days ago, no doubt he'd be home soon. 

 

Falar... With his russet hair he always tied back, out of his eyes. That smirk that most might see on a rogue, his mischievous laugh. 

 

Dorian kept his smile as he stood up, book in hand, to stow the tome back in it's rightful place on the bookshelf. He let his fingertips drag along the spines of books as he made his way over to the exit.

 

He was going to go to their shared quarters and sleep. Maybe when he woke up, Falar would be back. He smiled even wider. Just the thought of "their shared quarters" made him happy. It was a treat, something he wouldn't be allotted back home. 

 

Lost in his daydream, he didn't notice a dark shape creeping behind him. Not until the hallway was otherwise deserted and a dagger pricked the small of his back.

 

He had a sharp intake of breath. A voice hissed in his ear.

 

"Make a wrong move and you're dead, mage."

 

Dorian swallowed, nodding his affirmation. Who the fuck was this guy? Was it someone his father sent to collect him? The thought made his ice run cold. He wouldn't let this man take him back to Tevinter. He'd die first.

 

A hand grasped his shoulder from behind, the dagger moved up to the nape of his neck. If the knife wasn't already intimidating, it sure was now. He'd have to postpone an escape attempt.

 

"Walk."

 

Dorian did as he was told, for now, he could try and fight back as soon as the knife wasn't close enough to kill him instantly. 

 

Their feet didn't carry them towards any exit, but deeper and deeper into Skyhold. Down old corridors nobody bothered to go down, until they ended up in a storeroom that looked like it hadn't been touched in years. Until now.

 

There were exactly four people in the room. One woman. Three men. All human. And none of them looked like mages. But...

 

They all wore masks, of course they did, that was no surprise, but they... They had Inquisition armour. Why would people in Falar's colors be treating him like this?

 

Dorian felt the dagger move from his neck. He opened his mouth to ask exactly who the fuck they were and what the fuck they thought they were doing, but he didn't get a chance. A metal boot clashed into his lower back, knocking the wind out of him and sending him crashing down.

 

His head struck the ground, and his vision went out for a few moments. When it came back, his wrists were bound and he was gagged. The five perpetrators stood around him. 

 

Despite his best efforts, Dorian groaned in pain as he came to. His head ached profoundly, and his back stung where he'd been kicked.

 

He tried to rise to his knees, but caught a blow to the side. Dorian heard something crack.

 

He bit back a sob of pain. A flicker of rage tightened in his chest, and he reached for the Fade. Ready to set the bastards on fire. But the Fade didn't come. He didn't have enough time to process what that meant before another boot hit him. 

 

Dorian keeled over, gasping around the gag in pain. Another blow hit him in the back. Tears welled up in his vision. 

 

"You fucking piece of shit. Keep your dirty hands off the Inquisitor, or else." The man who had dragged him here spoke again.

 

Dorian made a noise of defiance, clenching his fist. 

 

Another blow struck him, this time at the back of his head. Dorian saw stars. 

 

His consciousness floated in and out, at some point he had curled in on himself. Covering his head and neck with his arms. The blows kept coming. The pain would wake him up, and the damage would send him back off. 

 

Eventually, he woke up and the blows were gone. He tried to rise but a heavy boot pressed him flat, face-down against the ground. 

 

He heard somebody unsheathe a blade. 

 

Dorian began to thrash. He wouldn't let them kill him. He couldn't. Not here. Not in Skyhold, the one place where he was safe. 

 

The sword bit down into his side, ripping through and down to scratch the stone. He screamed. He screamed as loud as he could around the gag, but nobody came. 

 

Someone pulled the sword out. And, at last, his attackers bestowed one small mercy. After ensuring his death to blood loss, one struck the back of his head. Knocking him off into blissful unconsciousness.


End file.
